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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516308">Legitimate Son of the Aegir Family</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crests (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Death, No Plot/Plotless</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:40:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In between torturing other people's children, Ludwig von Aegir has a conversation with his heir about, what else, horses</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Legitimate Son of the Aegir Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a fic about an evil man who thinks evil things. I do not condone the evil things he thinks. I have tried to make this clear through the writing itself, but I do want to make sure that people are well warned that this fic is about the internal world of Ludwig von Aegir, who tortures children.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ludwig von Aegir was having an exhausting day, and his afternoon tea was not delivered to his office at the appointed hour. No, his game warden would have to go without the advance on his allowance, and his wife’s chief maid being away to visit her sister was certainly not “all right.” A report from the minister of the interior was nigh on unreadable, and an Alliance diplomat was unhappy to have been kept waiting. And in the middle of all of it, one of the royal children had died in the early hours of the morning. A girl, born crestless. Never a legitimate heir, surely, but still, a disaster. The failure of the tea to be prepared on time was simply the latest in a long string of trials and humiliations for Ludwig von Aegir, prime minister of the Adrestian Empire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damned wet leaves,” Ludwig muttered, pushing his chair away from his desk. His head ached as he stopped trying to make sense of whatever Von Hevring was trying to say, and his mouth felt dry. He’d met the crestless girl, of course, promised to dedicate his finest mages to making a worthy heir of her. Promised the child it wouldn’t hurt a bit. It probably hadn’t, Ludwig assured himself. They made excellent sleeping draughts and painkillers, the employees of the imperial household did. Surely the girl hadn’t felt a thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The opening door brought him out of his reverie. The first thing that Ludwig noticed was that it wasn’t his long awaited tea. The second thing that Ludwig noticed was his twelve-year-old son and heir, bearer of the Crest of Cihol, stood, just behind the manservant, beaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prime minister, pardon the interruption, but your son has asked to speak with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ferdinand,” said Ludwig. “Of course, come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The manservant stood aside, and Ferdinand entered. In his tow came a kitchen boy, carrying the long awaited tray of tea, with two cups. So the boy intends to drink tea with me, thought Ludwig. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good afternoon, father,” said Ferdinand. There was something rushed in his speech, usually so level. “Thank you for allowing me to have tea with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good afternoon, Ferdinand,” said Ludwig. Ludwig turned to the servants, gave a curt nod, and they left. “What brings you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were away this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed I was. Urgent business in Enbarr.” Ferdinand had no need to know the nature of that business. The boy was still so young, so quick to feeling, and so very alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While you were in Enbarr, Daria had her foal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ludwig racked his mind but could not remember a Daria, and certainly not any Daria who bred horses. Perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was his wife’s sister’s name. “Is this Daria a friend of your mother’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No, she’s one of yours. Light bay. She had her foal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. A horse. Of course. Ludwig took a sip of his tea. “And is this foal healthy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand beamed. “Yes, very. I saw her first steps, father. She stood almost right away. I knew they did that, but this was the first time I’ve seen one born.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were at the stables?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I ride often.” If it weren’t Ferdinand, Ludwig would have found the confidence in his tone defiant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While I was in Enbarr, yes? You weren’t talking to the stablehands, were you?” Who knew what the stablehands would say. Ludwig certainly would not want to take that risk. His mind flitted to the two bastards, mothers safely paid off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You left so early, I had only just awoken. And I’m too busy with the horses to be much interested in what the stablehands have to say,” Ferdinand reassured him. “There’s only so many hours in the day, and I have to be careful with how I spend them, if I’m to be a noble of service to the Empire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll make a fine prime minister someday, son,” said Ludwig. Of course he would. Ferdinand was hearty, bold, and spirited. He bore a crest of Cihol. And perhaps, in time, he would have what it took to prepare a proper heir for the house of Hresvelg. Or perhaps such a burden would never fall onto the boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is the plan, yes.” Ferdinand beamed with pride. “There’s nothing I cannot do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Ludwig was overwhelmed by a feeling of awe for how very alive his son was. How alive and how fortunate. How innocent. Ferdinand had never promised a small, crestless girl that it wouldn’t hurt at all, nor had anyone made such an unkeepable promise to him. He was ignorant of the other sons of House Aegir, of the sons and daughters of House Hresvelg. His body was breathing, his cheeks flush with warm blood (safely inside its vessels), not cut open on a table in a dark room beneath the imperial palace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The picture rose, unbidden, of Ferdinand in that terrible dungeon he had visited this morning. Yet at that very same time, his fortunate, alive, legitimate boy had been at the stables, watching as a newborn foal stood for the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the wetness or the stinging Ludwig noticed first, but the feeling of warmth on his face and the gentle splash as a tear fell into his cup of tea. And the tears didn’t stop. Even as Ferdinand called to him in alarm, what had happened, even as his tea became salty and undrinkable, even after Ferdinand had stood up to go for help. Ludwig von Aegir sobbed in his office, at the darkness of the place he had been that morning, and at the brightness in the eyes of his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, why should it be any different? Ludwig swallowed hard. Ferdinand was special: he had a crest. A young crest-bearing heir should be delighted by things such as horses and his extensive library of military history books. He should be unknowing, innocent in the ways of the world, at least for now. Someday, he would assume great responsibility. There was nothing he could not achieve. And until that day, the crest of Cihol would protect Ferdinand, at least from his own father. </span>
</p>
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